Loki's Torture
by thatteenageweirdo
Summary: Loki in the prison in Asgard just before Thor 2. My first story, so I don't know how this all works
1. Chapter 1

Loki didn't know how long he'd been in this cell. Days, weeks? Months? Time was an incessant blur. He was curled up on the floor, pulling his knees to his chest. So painful. He looked at his hands, distorted by the endless blinding light. Long thin fingers, nails bitten down and blue veins showing up under paper-white skin. Not the hands of a king. The world flashed in front of him, and he balled up his fist and pounded the wall. It became opaque, and a sharp knife shot up into his shoulder. He hissed in pain then growled, pulling himself up onto the chaise, which looked completely out of place in the bleak cell. He felt another surge of anger rise into his throat, and he stood, kicking the wall again. The pain tempted the rage even more, and he kept kicking, his vision turning red as he struggled to hold back the tide of emotion.

Then the barrier fell, and a wave of anger and pain rolled over him, consuming him. In a trance, he was barely aware of the thuds and explosions in his foot as he kept kicking, releasing the anger at everyone, everything he had ever known. Finally, something inside him broke and he collapsed to the ground with a sob. He felt the anger rush away, leaving him weak and in agony. His foot was covered in blood and he could barely sit up. He ran trembling hands through his hair, whimpering. Loki leaned back on the chaise, too exhausted to move, and fell into a nightmare-ridden sleep.

Slowly, he slipped back into consciousness, and he was suddenly aware of two things: one, his foot reeeeeally hurt. Two, there was someone else in the cell. He sat up like one of Thor's lightning bolts, spots appearing in front of his eyes. As they faded, he realised who the intruder was.

"Son…" Frigga murmured. Loki shuddered. How long had it been since he had heard another voice?

"I am not your son, Frigga. Look at me." Frigga turned away, head held high.

"_**Look at me!" **_Loki screamed, throat burning, and Frigga recoiled and moved to leave.

"Mother, no, wait!" he cried, sudden tears brimming in his eyes. He felt like a pitiful child, abandoned and alone. Frigga was silent, and Loki struggled to stand.

"I'm sorry…" he whispered. Frigga didn't speak for a while, then murmured,

"We have looked after you all these years. Without us, without the kindness of your father- Odin's- heart, you would have died as a baby." Frigga paused, sucking in a breath. "Then how do you repay us? Destroy our kingdom, try to kill your parents, your own brother! Loki, all I ask- why? Why did you to this to us, to all of Asgard, and Midgard? Please." Loki felt as if he had received a blow in the chest from Mjolnir. He knew why. Jealousy. And it made him sick.

"Leave me." He murmured. He resisted the urge to yell as she turned back, just for a moment, and took a piece of parchment from her pocket. Then she shook her head sadly and dropped the parchment, striding through the cell wall as it rippled around her like water on the surface of a lake. Then once again, Loki was alone in the prison of his mind.

Loki felt a bitterness choking him.

He reached over and looked at the parchment again, but this time, felt no rage. It was a picture he had drawn, long ago. He had been a young child, before any of the problems that led him astray. He and Thor were small figures, half the size of their parents. They both had massive smiles on their faces, and he had drawn Thor holding Mjolnir like a stuffed toy. And they were holding hands. Loki remembered drawing that, filled with a strange kind of love and pride for his brother. He closed his eyes. No longer was life that simple. He dropped the picture and realised that the image of him was smudged with blood. The red fingerprint leaked outwards, blotting him out of the picture, and he clenched his fists, hard. Power flexed through his fingers and furniture and pieces of paper shot around the room. When he looked down, he noticed that his hands were covered in blood. There was something not quite right with it. Slightly too dark, too thick perhaps. Something that separated him from everyone else. Part Asgardian, part Frost Giant. All bad.


	2. Chapter 2

**This isn't going to be as good as the first chapter, btw. Feel free to leave at any point and imagine up your own ending. But thanks for reading, if you did read this. It means quite a lot to me, that somebody would spend some time looking into my imagination. That's all. **

A battle raged on around Loki, and the cries of dying warriors echoed in the air. He could smell burning as flames tore into the sky above around him. Then the illusion faded, and Loki was once again alone in his cell. It was becoming harder to tell between reality and illusion created by his fevered mind, and he kept wondering whether he was dead or not. Maybe it would have been better if he had died. If he had never been born at all. He twisted, and became aware of stuffing, lying on the floor around him, and a big hole in the chaise. Loki frowned: he didn't remember doing that. Neither did he remember anyone other than Frigga coming into his cell, but the wound on his foot had been dressed. And his picture was gone. He felt a little flame of sadness ignite in his chest, then something snuffed it out. He was tired… so tired. He barely noticed the tears that wet his parched lips.

"Please…" he whispered to himself. "Why can't you let me out?" A silence replied, harsh and uncaring, and Loki slammed a fist into the floor of the cell. "_**Let me out!" **_He suddenly remembered that there were other cells, guards outside. "_I need to see Thor!" _he cried, peering desperately through the wall. It was harder to see through than earlier, and he could only just see indistinct, armoured figures moving about. Then one of them moved towards the wall- a cloaked figure, face shrouded in darkness. As the figure approached, there was a blur too fast for Loki to properly register with his burning eyes, then something clattered on the floor of his cell. The figure turned and left, flitting between the guards practically unseen. Loki pulled himself towards the strange item, one leg lying limply behind him. When he reached it, he hesitantly picked it up. A bone. His veins pulsed with flames, and he hurled it across the room, where it clunked against the ground.

"Do you think I am a dog?!" he cried, outraged. "I am a king…a ki-" His voice faded. He wasn't a king. He was just a frost giant, pretending to be a king. He was no better than a child. He hit the wall again, pressing his wrist into the glass-like material. Veins of gold rippled through the wall, burning his wrist. But this was nothing. This was not pain. This-

"Argh!" he cried, pulling his wrist away and clutching it to him. Gingerly, he pulled back his sleeve. The flesh was red and raw, burning and bleeding. He began to tremble, shivers wracking his whole body. What was wrong with him? He could feel his brain freezing as his spine shuddered. The lights were shutting down, and he was swimming in blood. He was drowning… Thor. Where was Thor?

"Thor, I'm s-s-sorry. Forgive me, b-brother." Then it all went black.


End file.
